One strong disadvantage to getting on the bus before the crowded bus stop is that although you get your own choice of seat, you are left at the mercy of whoever chooses to sit next to you. You can’t just get up and move to another seat, because you’re at the window, not the aisle. And you can’t be rude and ask the other person to stand up just so you can go to a different part of the bus, God forbid.

Most of the time, I have fairly good luck with people sitting next to me – usually uneventful, hardly even memorable at all. Today, however, my lucky streak ended.

I was on the way back to the office from lunch. I had eaten at Chipotle, a tasty burrito joint secretly owned and operated by the sinister hand of McDonald’s. With me were my trusty iPod, a clean napkin from Chipotle that I for some reason had put into my pocket instead of leaving behind, and a large cup full of Coca-Cola. I was feeling good. I had an excellent seat all to myself when my bus reached its busiest stop and let on a flood of day travelers.

Time didn’t slow down or anything, because I had no idea what I was in for. Straight towards the empty seat beside me walked a tall, thin Asian guy. He was dressed in designer clothing and his carefully slanted hair covered one eye. He carried a small, unisex over-the-shoulder bag just big enough to carry a CD or two and a book by Kurt Vonnegut. Safety, I thought, just a run-of-the-mill hipster. I have been known to pass undetected in and out of hipster circles, so I figured this man would pose no threat. Then he sat down next to me.

Rarely have I smelled a worse-smelling individual than this dude. I mean, wow. Lordy. Lordy, lordy, lordy.

I am not exaggerating. It was not patchouli, it was not any sort of store-bought chemical, no, it was all-natural. If I were not already sitting, I would have fallen down. His putrid smell bowled over me like a tidal wave of sewage.

I mean it. He smelled like a Satan-pleasing combination of human body odor and whiskey-induced vomit (presumably his own). I would not have put it past him to have had a side of rotting beef in his little man-purse. And this fucker sat down right next to me.

I didn’t really know what to do. Instinctually I looked away, as if that would alter the situation. I found myself covering up the straw in my drink with my finger, lest his putrid essence infiltrate my Coke and make it taste like him. I pulled the clean napkin out of my pocket and pretended to wipe my nose – I must have wiped my nose for over half a mile. I just couldn’t take it.

At some point my eyes watered up. It was either from the smell, or else I was crying because to smell him dampened my outlook on the species. I wondered if he even knew. I mean, even if he couldn’t smell his own wretched mixture, surely the looks on people’s faces, the avoidance, the guy sitting next to him banging his head on the window (me) would tip him off? He didn’t look crazy or handicapped in any way, nor did he appear intoxicated. He looked perfectly ordinary, except he just fucking stank. If ancient China smelled the way he did, the Mongols would never have invaded.

I got off the bus a stop early; I can walk a few blocks, I thought, but I cannot endure this stench any longer. I passed a Dunkin’ Donuts along the way; I walked as close as I could to the open door in hopes that the sweet smell of donuts would neutralize the aftertaste he had left in my nose. When I got back into the office, I headed straight for the bathroom where the scented air fresheners are and sprayed myself down. Now I smell like oranges and rubbing alcohol, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the smell that stinky bastard was putting out. Wow.

I should take a moment here to bring relevance to all this. I am a somewhat laid-back person, and I take most things in stride. When people ask me if I am conservative or liberal, I tell them liberal.

There is a terrible misconception about liberals that we will defend another person’s right to offend people or walk all over them or stink up a bus full of passengers or whatever. This shouldn’t be the case. I of course shied away from looking that dude in the eye and saying, “Holy shit, man, you smell horrible;” but I’ll take up this little bit of web space to make a reminder announcement that really shouldn’t need making.

Bathe. Please. For the love of Pete, wash your ass. Use soap. Wear deodorant. If you threw up on yourself last night, change your shirt. And for fuck’s sake, if you smell foul, stay the hell away from me.

While it’s not exactly unlawful to smell bad, please have some courtesy. It is not your God-given right to offend other people with your odor. Well, maybe it is, there’s a debate there that can go either way, but that’s not the point. Just have some respect for others, huh? Come on now.

As a liberal, I will not defend your right to trample my senses with BO. A “right” that walks on the right(s) of others is not a right at all. It may be a liberty, but it is not a right. So fuck you, you goddamn smelly hipster.

Filed by Bil at 1:45 pm under Social Issues, Damn Hippies, Fightin' Words